


here we go head first (no regrets and no rules)

by Florchis



Series: love bites so deep [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dom Bobbi Morse, F/F, Frottage, High Heels, Light BDSM, Lingerie, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Making Out, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Bobbi comes home to find a very nice surprise in the form of an almost naked Jemma. That is unexpected, but what is even more unexpected is the response that elicits from her.(Aka: the how and when Simmorse decided to elope.){Can be read as a stand-alone}





	here we go head first (no regrets and no rules)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theclaravoyant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/gifts).



> Written for @theclaravoyant's birthday. Hope you enjoy it, darling. 
> 
> This is probably a high-M/low-E story, but better safe than sorry. This story takes part in the universe of the Love bites so deep Verse, but it can completely be read as a standalone since the other stories are very Fitzhunter focused.  
> 

Bobbi is pretty sure the high heels are to blame for at least 49% of this mess.

(The other 51% was all her, though. She can not make excuses for someone who has married Lance Hunter while being dead sober.)

But in her defense… high heels. And Jemma. Jemma in lingerie and high heels.

“Do you like it?” Bobbi adores how she can be cheerful even while faced with Bobbi’s absolute silence. Of course she likes it, but that is not even the most important thing here, because Jesus Christ, she is going to have a heart attack.

“Turn around and let me see it,” is her only reply, and she sees the way Jemma bites her lips in delight at her commanding tone. They have only started to dip their toes in that particular pool, and Bobbi doesn’t want to push their limits further until she is sure of how firm the ground she is walking on is.

Obviously, Jemma disagrees with that assessment and, as usual, has decided to take matters on her own hands.

She makes a full 360 degrees spin in slow motion. Bobbi appreciates very much the red lace bra and the matching panties and garter belt, but mostly, she can not take her eyes apart from the black shoes with red soles and heels to die for.

She is not that much a high heels person herself, since high shoes take her usual five foot nine to six foot _forever_ and make her tower over everyone. Not that she minds, but people usually don’t appreciate being looked down, and since she doesn’t care for them particularly, she doesn’t use them unless she is specifically trying to intimidate someone.

But on Jemma? A completely different story. She never considered how much she would like seeing them on someone else, to witness first-hand the so acclaimed effects they have on toning the calves and lifting the butt.

If wearing them had made her think that they were overrated, her review about seeing them on Jemma is _five stars, ten out of ten would recommend._

She sits down on the couch and opens the first button of her blouse to help with her breathing. She doesn’t say anything for a while, because she likes to see the anticipation building on Jemma’s face, the way she can not stand still, curling and uncurling her firsts, biting her lips, her nipples getting clearly erect on the cool air of the flat. She counts down from twenty, and when Jemma looks like she is about to pounce her on her own, Bobbi taps her own thighs with her palms.

“Come here, doll.”

There is an extra bounce on her step while she follows the command eagerly that makes Bobbi’s bones melt. That’s what she blames for what comes next.

That, and those damned shoes.

Because Jemma straddles her legs, and Bobbi’s hands go automatically to hold the back of her thighs, her thumbs rubbing from the sensitive cavity of her knees to the soft edge of her panties. Jemma's smile is unmistakably wicked, and though Bobbi is playing the hard to get part- she knows Jemma likes it, that it doesn’t make her feel less wanted, but instead she likes the challenge of seeing how much she needs to push in order to get Bobbi to break-, in reality her brain is literally short-circuiting right now.

Jemma kisses her, all tongue and hungry lips, and Bobbi lets herself be kissed, but doesn’t reciprocate. Instead of being deterred, Jemma moans and shifts her attention to Bobbi’s neck and jaw.

Bobbi tuts, “Now, you know that is playing dirty. You look too nice in this outfit for us to have to stop because you are not behaving.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They have not gone as far as settling on that kind of names, not yet, and a zap of electricity runs through Bobbi’s muscles. Jemma has let go of leaving biting marks on her neck and is now pouting, trying to look remorseful but only managing a flat version of it, especially considering that she is also frantically rutting against Bobbi’s leg. Bobbi’s original facade has completely crumbled under this whole situation, but she can try to shift the cool persona towards the Domme one now that Jemma has requested it.

“Behave and you know I will make you feel nice, sweetheart.” She lets her hands traverse Jemma’s legs until she finds the straps of her shoes, and tugs on them to press Jemma closer to her body. Jemma is shaking a little, and Bobbi knows she doesn’t handle well the high tension for long period of times, so she snakes a hand between their bodies to press against her sex and relieve the tension a little, while her other hand goes up to play with the strap of her bra. “Now, I would like to know: what did you want to get by wearing this outfit?”

Jemma moans, her shoulders sagging and her eyes fluttering closed, and Bobbi removes the hand that was rubbing steady circles against her clit. When Jemma looks at her gaping, Bobbi raises one unimpressed eyebrow. They both know what it means- _do as I say and you will get your reward-_ , so Jemma starts talking and Bobbi moves her hand between them once again.

“I wanted you to look at me and tell me all the things you would like to do with me in this outfit.”

That is _savage,_ to turn the situation on her like this, and Bobbi bites her shoulder in retaliation, but that only seems to take Jemma’s arousal even higher. She can feel how wet she is even through the flimsy fabric of her underwear, and imagining how long she might have been planning this, and how turned on just putting on the clothes and setting this all up must have made her for her to already be so close to the edge, thinking about it all sends Bobbi’s head spinning. She is riding a primal high herself, and though she wasn’t planning on letting things spiral this fast, she can't help moving away the front of Jemma’s panties to give her skin on skin contact. Jemma groans, and places both her hands on Bobbi’s shoulder to get better leverage to give the friction a more ample range of movement. Bobbi arches her back to press her forehead against Jemma's, panting even though she is not the one being touched, and she doesn’t even think when a reply to the question slips from her lips,  

“I would _marry_ you in this outfit.”

She doesn’t know if the words are what does the trick, or if it is just a case of ill-timing, but Jemma jerks out her orgasm right then and there, and Bobbi freezes while holding her spent in her arms.

Fuck, wasn’t she supposed to be the one in control here? They have been dating for five months, and barely two have passed since Jemma moved to the US full time. _This is insane, what were you even thinking, Barbara?_

Jemma gives her a soft kiss on the lips and then drops herself down unceremoniously on the couch, and Bobbi wonders if maybe she didn’t hear her in the buzz of her orgasm.

And then she realizes that thinking about that possibility makes her sad.

_What the fuck is wrong with you????_      

“Calm down, babe, I can hear you internally panicking from over here. I am an adult, I know what people say in the middle of sex is not-binding.”

Bobbi looks down at her, a milky way of freckles laying disjointed on her couch, the red patches of fabric like bows on this present custom-made for her.

The tip of one of her shoes rubbing up and down Bobbi’s leg like a caress.

_Fuck playing it cool._

“And what if I meant it?”

That draws Jemma’s attention, and she straightens herself up into a proper sitting position.

“You are not serious.”

It _is_ insane, but it feels right on her gut, and if Bobbi has learned something in her life is that you have to follow your gut feelings.

“Only if you don’t want me to be serious.”

Jemma bites the tip of her thumbnail nervously, and it’s mesmerizing how she can go from wild seductress to sex kitten to anxious doll in the span of all twenty minutes.

“Do you mean right now?”

“No.” Jemma’s face deflates, and Bobbi’s heart rises. “Take this weekend off work. We will make a road trip, and if we haven’t changed our minds, we will get married in Las Vegas.” This way they can be sure that even if rushed, the decision is not to blame on post-sex hormones. “You can repeat outfit on our wedding night.”

Jemma outstretches her arm, touches Bobbi’s shoulder like she is afraid she might be dreaming. Bobbi grabs her hand and takes it to her lips to kiss her palm.  

“The boys are going to kill us if we elope.”

Bobbi grins and curls her tongue around one of Jemma’s fingers.

“All the more reason to do it.”       

**Author's Note:**

> **  
> This fills the "High Heels" square in my [ MCU Kink Bingo Card.](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/175123302736/mcu-kink-bingo-card-2018) I'm accepting prompts for it and for [ my MCU Bingo Card](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174965037436/this-is-the-temporary-masterpost-i-will-be-using) too. 
> 
> If you want, you can look for some inspiration in my [Visual Prompts List](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174316812926/visual-promptswriting-references) (warnings for NSFW descriptions and links that take to NSFW pictures).  
> **  
> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



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